We walk through the chill of the autumnal night and listen to the squeals as candy is placed in plastic pumpkins and parents who are friends tarry behind and remind to only go one house ahead.
I watch quick feet that are fueled by excitement and silently feel an ache in my heart as the giraffe, the youngest, tries to keep up.
Suddenly, I remember where I once was. The wretch that He saved that was once, and still is, me.
I’m overcome by His grace, his redemption through these three and the man at my side as they marvel over Reese’s cups and hope to find a Payday for a mama who offered a dollar to whoever got one and gave it to her. (Yes, I did.)
He’s good. He’s faithful. He’s steadfast.
At the bottom of the barrel ten years ago, I could not have imagined this.
His mercy rains and I breath in the crisp air and I marvel and thank.
Redemption and reprieve are real.
581. Screams of delight as we run from house to house
582. The joy in a toddler who patiently waits for trick-or-treating all year
583. The same toddler who can’t take anymore and sits down on a driveway seven houses from home to start in on the loot
584. Stormtroopers and horses and giraffes, oh my
585. A dog that will for certain be allowed through the pearly gates of heaven
586. Friends seen on the route and with us as we walk
587. A man that takes my breath away
588. A family that exists only by redemption and grace
589. Vines that are cut in order to bear more fruit
590. Grace beyond amazing.
This week may we seek the snapshots that remind us of how really good we have it. Even in the storm.